


Stalker Santa

by peloquine



Series: Christmas fic calendar [1]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 02:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peloquine/pseuds/peloquine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which both Agron and Nasir is a little creepy, stalker-wise, but Agron's worst. Obviously. And there is a new take on Secret Santa. Also, Nasir is a bit silly and oblivious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hot and Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Second day! I'm still on schedule! Woh!
> 
> Anyway, I just thought I'd ask: this is a three chapter fic, and would you prefer that I put the next two parts up on Monday respectively Tuesday or mix it up a little with some other fics to keep you on the edge a bit? ;)

Nasir is staring confusedly into his locker. Or rather, at the small, wrapped box sitting inside his locket. The wrapping paper is white with red reindeer silhouettes on it. It has a red bow. He briefly entertains the notion of it having ended up in the wrong locker, but his has “FAG” spray-painted on it, so that’s not very likely. It’s probably just some kind of joke.

He thinks about throwing it away, but curiosity eventually wins out. It’s not only small, but rather thin as well, so it can’t be anything too nasty.

He opens it and inside are… two pencils. Nasir blinks at them. His pen gave out yesterday in Psychology, and he had been forced to borrow one from the girl sitting next to him. And here were two brand new ones, of the mechanical pencil variety Nasir preferred, complete with a box of leads next to them.

He has a bit of a hard time to wrap his head around the fact that someone has not only paid attention to what kind of pencils he uses in class, but also bought and wrapped them for him and left the gift in his locker. It seems genuinely nice and Nasir doesn’t know anyone good enough in the school to expect any genuinely nice things from them.

The bell rings and he snaps out of his train of thought, grabs one of the pens and his math books, closes his locker and hurries to the classroom.

- 

On Monday, there is another gift in his locker. This one is smaller than the other one and more square. This time the paper is red with white dots and the bow is silver. Inside are hair-ties, black and sturdy-looking and big enough to wind three times around Nasir’s thick hair. He is constantly losing his hair ties, especially when he keeps them in his bag or pockets. It’s a nice, thoughtful gift and Nasir is frowning at them, wondering what they do in his locker, why someone has given them to him. Maybe it is some kind of joke that he just doesn’t understand yet. He doubts it’s something Ashur and his thugs have come up with, because it seems far too sophisticated for them. Nasir isn’t quite sure that they all know how to tie their shoelaces, much less come up with complex plans to embarrass him. Writing insults on his locker and yelling them after him is more their kind of game.

He leaves the hair-ties in his locker since his hair is already braided back and because it could be good to have spare ones in there, before grabbing his Psychology books. Psychology is the best class of the week, and not only because the subject is interesting, but because Agron Vogt takes the same class. Nasir always tries to get a seat behind him so that he can spend the class watching the muscles of his back move beneath his t-shirt as he fidgets in his chair. The best time was when one of Agron’s friends – Mira, Nasir is pretty sure her name is, not that he is stalking Agron and his friends by extension or anything – sat beside him and Agron spent a lot of the hour turning around in the seat to smile, roll his eyes or talk to her and Nasir could sneak glances at more than his back.

He simply refuses to admit how pathetic it is, especially since he is jealous of Agron as well. The whole school knows his preferences for a fact, but no one ever yells insults after him. Mostly because his big and ripped and so very nice and best friends with all the popular kids, but it still sucks.

Nasir may or may not have the biggest crush on him in the history of humankind. Him and everyone else in this damned school.

- 

Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday finds his locker empty of gifts, but on Friday there is another small, squarish present waiting for him as he opens it first thing in the morning. This one is wrapped in gleaming green paper and the ribbon tied around it is in gold.

Nasir’s heart pounds in his chest as he finds the note tucked beneath it, that simply says “Happy birthday”, in a non-descript scrawl. However is giving him gifts knows when his birthday is. Maybe it should feel creepy, but it doesn’t. Mostly it feels nice, in a strange sort of way.

He carefully removes the paper, which reveals a simple black box. He opens it and inside is a gorgeous earring, a curved piece of dark wood, about 7mm at its thickest point, and pretty much a perfect fit for Nasir’s stretched ear.

So maybe this is getting a tiny bit creepy. Nevertheless, it is a birthday present. From someone that isn’t his parents or sister. That is pretty huge.

He grabs his books and the box and walks into the closest bathroom. He puts his pile of books on the sink and takes out the plug he already has in his ear, slipping in the wooden earring in its place. It looks good. Real good.

He hesitates only for a second before taking a hair-tie out of his pocket and gathering his hair into a ponytail. It makes the earring stand out, brings attention to it.

-

Nasir sighs. He is balancing precariously on a chair, trying to fasten a garish garland to the wall. He has no idea how he got roped into Christmas decorating duty, but when his teacher asked him, he just couldn’t say no, even though he was staying on after classes to study in the library. Not to hang fucking garlands on the wall at the risk of falling down on his ass and embarrass himself completely in front of the other students that has somehow managed to end up here.

And does this thing have to be so fucking high up? He is not short and this is ridiculous. No one is this tall, no one could…

“Here, let me help you with that.”

That’s Agron’s voice and Nasir would have been embarrassed to know him from voice only if it wasn’t for the fact that he is climbing up behind him on the very, very small chair, pressing his front all along Nasir’s back and reaching up to hold the garland in place, his arms trapping Nasir from both sides. Nasir stands frozen, breathing in deeply. Agron smells so good, like warmth and cologne and a little bit of sweat.

“Can you pin it now?”

Agron’s mouth his so close to him that he can feel his breath against his ear and it startles Nasir out of his daze. He reaches up, arms brushing against Agron’s, and pins the garland to the wall as fast as he can.

Once it’s done, Agron steps down and holds out a hand for Nasir. He takes it, because it’s not like he is going to turn down a chance to touch Agron, and steps down, which brings him way too close to Agron once again.

“Thank you,” he says, belatedly.

Agron smiles and it takes Nasir’s breath away, because he has seen Agron smile before but never at him. Then his eyes shift to Nasir’s ear and the smile seems to widen a fraction. “I like your earring,” he says.

“Thank you,” Nasir says again, because apparently he is smooth like that. “So, uh,” he adds even more smoothly after a few seconds, because they are still standing there, looking at each other and Agron smiling a little.

“Need help with the rest?” Agron asks, motioning at the lengths of garlands lying at Nasir’s feet.

“Yes,” Nasir says, because apparently he has no self-preservation whatsoever.

- 

So maybe Nasir is pretending that it is Agron that’s keeps leaving gifts in his locker. On Monday there’s fancy chocolate waiting for him when he arrives at school, wrapping in the reindeer paper, which is nice because Nasir has a double hour of math to get through and is starting to come down with a cold. He has also lost his mittens somewhere, and not only is his hands frozen, but it was the mittens his grandmother knitted for him and gave him last Christmas, and he loved them.

- 

The day passes slowly and when it finally rings out form his last class, Nasir’s head is pounding and he just wants to get home and sleep whatever he’s coming down with off since he can’t afford to stay home from school right before Christmas break. He manages to get past Ashur and his friends without them throwing snowballs at him, which is both great and surprising. He is so preoccupied with being relieved and feeling sorry for himself that he walks right into something. Or rather, someone. And because Nasir’s life apparently has turned into some kind of bad romantic comedy minus the romance, it’s Agron. The fact that Agron is made of solid muscle and the collision causes Nasir to fall straight on his ass is something he just considers to be the cherry on the cake.

Nasir barely has time to consider staying down in the snow and pretend to be dead before Agron’s hand is grabbing his, hauling him up to his feet.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says, and yes, that’s his hand brushing snow out of Nasir’s hair, which makes him shiver all over. Agron apparently notices, because he says, “Shit, you must be freezing your ass off. I’m so sorry. And you don’t even have any gloves. Why don’t you have any gloves?” He tears of his own and puts them on Nasir’s hands before Nasir has a chance to protest. They are a little too big but delightfully warm.

“They got lost,” is all Nasir manages to say.

Agron is looking at him. “You look like crap,” he says, not unkindly, and then his hand his on Nasir’s forehead. “I think you have a fever. Want me to follow you home?”

Nasir’s head is swimming with Agron’s closeness and, well, fever. “I… no, thank you. It’s only a five-minute walk. And I’m fine. Nothing some aspirin and a little sleep can’t fix.”

“Do you want me to bring you tomorrow’s homework?” Agron asks.

Nasir is just not going to think about what him offering might mean, because he is pretty sure that Agron is just trying to be nice. Because that’s what Agron is. Nice. Probably to everyone. “No, I have a history test and a book discussion in English tomorrow. I can’t stay home.”

“You probably should, though,” Agron says, and he actually looks concerned.

Nasir really feels like he should end this conversation and get home, because it starts to seem more and more like some weird fever dream. “Yeah, well,” he says. “Thank you for letting me borrow your gloves. I’ll return them tomorrow, okay?”

“Only if you’ve found your own.”

Nasir grimaces a little.

“What?” Agron says.

“I don’t think I’ll find them. My stuff goes missing sometimes. And I usually don’t get it back.” And usually he doesn’t care, but those mittens were special.

“You mean that someone took them.” Agron is frowning.

“Maybe.” Nasir shrugs.

“Do you know who?”

He can guess, but he won’t say because Ashur and Dagan are on the football and the basketball team with Agron so there is no way in hell he’s going to rat them out to their teammate.

“Ashur?”

Nasir looks startled at Agron. Did he talk out loud? He should deny it. “How did you know?” _Damn_.

“Because he’s an ass. Especially to you.”

“Yeah,” Nasir doesn’t know what else to say. “I have to go. Again, thank you.”

“See you,” Agron says and Nasir just nods a little confusedly.

- 

When Nasir opens his locker the next morning, the packet is slightly bigger than the previous ones. It is wrapped in grey paper with white snowflakes on it and the ribbon is silver. Inside are two packets of tissues, cough drops, aspirin and his lost mittens.


	2. Frozen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here comes the angst. Also, Agron is upset about Oscar Wilde and lack of gay porn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it seemed like people wanted me to post chapter 2 and 3 before anything else, so this is me listening to you. ;) I will continue doing it like for the other multi-chaptered fics as well.
> 
> And, yeah, you might think that there isn't any Christmasness in this one, but Duro is actually wearing a Santa hat. Blink and you miss it.

So maybe Nasir is in denial. Mostly because he is confused. If – _if_ – it is Agron that has been giving him things, the big question is why. Agron can have anyone he wants, including Nasir, and from what Nasir has seen he knows that. If – _if_ – he for some reason is interested in Nasir, he wouldn’t do it like this. He wouldn’t _woo_ him. He would probably just have asked him out or something. Only he wouldn’t, because why would Agron ask _him_ out?

He decides to return Agron’s gloves at lunch, because he usually eats together with Mira and his brother on Tuesdays – and yes, it may be a little creepy that Nasir knows that – and they aren’t quite as scary as that as his blonde cousin or that guy who’s name Nasir never can remember but mostly just glares at people and probably would manage to sound threatening even if he was talking about kittens.

So he gets his food and hurries over to Agron’s table, silently begging a god he does not believe in to make sure that he doesn’t fall over, gets tongue-tied or spill something on Agron.

Agron notices him coming over which thankfully saves Nasir from trying to work out a non-awkward way to get his attention. He smiles at him and that is not helpful, because it kind of turns Nasir’s legs into jelly.

“Here,” he says, holding out the gloves, once he reaches the table. “Thanks again for letting me borrow them.”

“No problem,” Agron says, accepting the gloves and putting them down on the table. Then he gestures to the chair next to him, looking a little nervously at Nasir. “You want to sit with us?”

Nasir’s eyes flicker from Agron to the chair to Mira and Agron’s brother. Mira smiles at him while the brother seems busy digging in on his hamburger.

“Sure,” Nasir says, sitting down with his heart pounding heavily in his chest.

“Thank you for backing my analysis of _Jane Eyre_ up in the book discussion, by the way,” Mira says, taking a sip of her Coke.

Mira presentation had been a kickass feminist analysis of Jane’s relationships to the different men in the book, and it had, if nothing else, been a welcome addition to the Wikipedia-rip offs the others had brought with them. Nasir hadn’t so much backed her up as not joined in the laughter and the bored sighs, though.

“It was really good,” he says, because it was.

Agron’s arm is inches from his and he can literally feel the warmth radiating from it against his own, which slows down his thought-processes a great deal.

“Can I copy it for my English class?” Agron’s brother asks hopefully. Nasir is pretty sure his name starts with a D, but he can’t for the life of him remember what it is.

“Nope,” Mira says and ruffles his hair, getting a grimace in return, before turning back to Nasir. “So, your feelings on reading Austen and Shakespeare next year?”

Nasir is pretty sure that this is the best school lunch he has ever had. Not only is he sitting inches away from Agron at Agron’s explicit invitation but he also gets the chance to talk literature with Mira, who actually seems genuinely interested in not only the subject but what he has to say as well. It’s great.

Until he dares a glance sideways at Agron and notices that he looks grumpy. He is glaring and picking at his food and actually pouting. It looks adorable, but it doesn’t really seem like a positive development.

Mira seems to notice Agron’s sudden surliness as well.

“Hey,” she says, “are you still upset about _The Picture of Dorian Grey_?” She smirks at him.

He seems to perk up at that. “You promised me gay sex!” he exclaims, pointing accusingly at her with his fork.

“Did not,” Mira says.

“Did too!”

“I said _homoeroticism_.”

Agron just huffs at that and Mira rolls her eyes. Then they suddenly start to engage in some weird telepathic conversation, from the way they are frowning and grimacing at each other.

It ends with Mira kicking Agron in the shin. Hard, judging by the dull thud of her sneaker hitting his leg.

“Seriously,” Agron’s brother says, “you’re both morons.” Then he turns to Nasir. “Spartacus is having a party at his house tomorrow night. You know, to celebrate that we’re soon out of here for a couple of weeks by getting plastered. You can come if you want.”

“Um,” Nasir says.

Luckily, Agron has finally decided to get back into the conversation. “I can come by your house and pick you up. I mean, I guess you don’t know where Spartacus lives, do you?”

“Um,” Nasir says.

“Don’t feel the need to dress up nice or anything,” Mira says. “It usually ends with everyone running around half-naked anyway.”

“That happened once,” Agron says.

“Um,” Nasir says.

“Great.” Mira stands up and gathers up her things. “See you tomorrow then, Nasir.”

- 

Nasir doesn’t think to wonder how Agron knows where he lives until Agron is ringing the doorbell Wednesday, his cheeks red from the cold and with a gigantic red knitted scarf wound around his neck. His is so beautiful it almost hurts.

“You ready?” he asks and Nasir nods, grabs his coat and mittens and closes the door behind him.

It’s not far and they walk mostly in rather comfortable silence until they reach Spartacus’ house, where a sizeable crowd had already gathered.

Agron steers him into the house and gets him a beer. Nasir feels utterly and completely lost, clutching the cold bottle in his hands and trailing after Agron like a lost puppy.

Someone calls Agron’s name and he looks a little annoyed, but turns around nevertheless.

He turns back to Nasir. “I just need to go and talk to him for a sec, okay? Mira and Duro’s over there if you want to talk to them. I’ll be back.” He squeezes Nasir’s arm and is gone.

Nasir moves over the corner where Agron had pointed, half-hoping that he could stand beside Mira and Duro without being noticed. This whole thing is a bad, bad idea.

“Hi!” Mira greets him with a smile, raising her beer bottle. Duro claps him on the shoulder, which is weird since they have never spoken to each other before yesterday. He has a Santa hat on, apparently trying to bring some Christmas spirit to the party.

Nasir takes a sip of his beer. It’s not good, but he guesses it’s drinkable. And maybe, he thinks, if he gets drunk – not pissed, but moderately drunk – he could perhaps work up the courage to ask Agron about the Christmas gifts. Or something like that.

Spartacus and a guy whose name Nasir thinks is Varro come up to them, Spartacus winding one arm around Mira’s waist and kissing her on the cheek.

“Who’s this?” Maybe-Varro asks, nodding at Nasir.

“Nasir,” Mira says, like it means something more than just his name and Varro makes an “ah”-sound and smiles at him.

This is all so weird.

Nasir takes another sip of beer.

- 

It gets better. After another two beers and something that Duro gave him that Nasir doesn’t really want to know what it is made up of, he is pleasantly buzzed and talking to an older guy and girl who are majoring in psychology and American Literature respectively. The girl is minoring in folklore as well, and Nasir is entranced by the conversation.

Even so a large part of his mind is occupied with wondering where Agron has gone, because it’s been almost two hours since he disappeared and he hasn’t come back yet. Nasir isn’t surprised, per se, but he is disappointed. It wasn’t to talk to collage students he came to the party, no matter how nice they are.

He tries to look around for him without being obvious about it, but when he finally catches sight of him, he wishes that he hadn’t. He swallows and it hurts, because Agron has a pretty guy pushed up against a wall and his tongue down his throat.

And Nasir knows that it isn’t really any other way this could have gone, but it still hurts so fucking bad because he had started to hope, damn it. Like someone as good-looking and wonderful and popular like Agron would ever have eyes for someone like him.

He feels suddenly nauseated and excuses himself from the people he’s been talking to. He blindly puts his near-empty beer bottle down on the first flat surface he can find and then he is out the door, going home to collapse down on his bed and never, ever get up again.


	3. Thaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in a bit of a rush, so I won't have time to answer your comments on Chapter 2 right now, but since they were so distraught I thought it best to get this one up quickly. ;) And, come on, guys, do you really think I'd do anything to hurt Nagron? You wound me. Agron is just being sixteen and in love and a little afraid and very stupid.
> 
> You know what's hard, by the way? Writing Nagron as teenagers. I know that teenagers don't talk the way they do in the fic, but what do you do.

On Thursday, Nasir skips school. He’s never really done that before and he feels a tiny amount of shame, but his grades won’t really suffer from it and he really, really doesn’t want to go. But on Friday he has no choice so he forces himself to get up from bed, get dressed, eat breakfast, brush his teeth and leave the house.

When he opens his locker, he almost recoils, because there is another gift, wrapped in the polka dotted paper again, and Nasir gapes at it. What the fuck…?

He doesn’t know when he decided that there is no other possibility than that it is Agron that keeps leaving gifts in his locker, but it is probably right there and then.  And it makes him angry, because Agron has no fucking right to string him along like this, make out with someone else, and then keep stringing him along. Nasir doesn’t know why, and right now he doesn’t care, because whatever Agron’s intentions are, it’s just mean.

He puts the gift in his bag because is not going to march through the hallways with a polka-dotted Christmas present in his hands, no matter how angry he is.

He finds Agron further down the corridor, leaning against his locker and chatting with his friends. He smiles when he sees Nasir, but Nasir refuses to notice, just walks up to him and says in a clipped, steeled voice: “Can I talk to you?”

Agron’s smile disappears. “Yeah, sure,” he says quietly, frowning slightly.

Nasir leads him into the library because it is usually empty at this time. He turns to face Agron, getting the gift out of his bag and thrusting it into his hands.

“I think you should stop doing this,” Nasir says, his voice still cold and dead like it always goes when he is mad. “I don’t understand why you’ve been doing it, but I’d prefer it if you cut it out.”

“You don’t know why?” Agron asks and he looks hurt, which only makes Nasir more angry, because he has no _right_.

“No,” Nasir says, “I don’t know why. I thought maybe I did – or I hope I did – and then there you were, making out with someone else at the party.”

“Shit,” Agron says. His hands are clutching at the present and he looks distraught.

“Yeah,” is all Nasir says and then he turns around, walking away. Christmas break is only two school days away and then he can just pretend to forget about this whole mess for two weeks.

- 

It’s Christmas Eve and his parents and Alisa are over at some friends’ house to celebrate before Christmas Day. Nasir usually comes along, but this time he didn’t feel like it. He is wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, half-napping to some Christmassy show on TV when there is a knock on the door.

He gets up reluctantly, and walks out in the hallway to open the door.

Outside is Agron, his breath a white cloud in the cold night air and with that scarf around his neck.

Nasir stares at him.

“Hi,” Agron says. “I need to talk to you. Can I come in?”

Nasir considers saying no, but in the end he just steps back, allowing Agron inside.

Because he is a masochist he still has the wooden earring in his ear and he catches Agron looking at it. He probably should have returned that as well, along with everything else he had gotten, but he hadn’t thought about it at the time and afterwards it would just have felt silly.

He sits down in the armchair and Agron sits down on the edge of the couch next to it. It so surreal seeing him sitting there, in the half-dark with the lights from the Christmas tree in the corner making shadowy patterns on the side of his face.

“I’m sorry,” Agron says eventually, fiddling a little with the cuffs on the thick sweater he is wearing and looks amazing in. Nasir hates it. “I’m sorry I made out with that guy on the party. I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t want to do that.” He looks at Nasir and his gaze is intense. “I wanted it to be you. I’ve wanted it to be you for a long time. It’s just…” He chews on his bottom lip for a second. “You’re so smart, Nasir. Smart and mature. Intelligent. I’ve heard you in class, I’ve seen what you read for fun, I know just how smart you are. And I’m not. All I’m good at is sports, and I know you’re not interested in that. So I decided to, you know, try and make you interested in me by, I don’t know, showing you that I care about you. Like, a lot. It seemed to work, too. And then I heard you at the party, talking to Spartacus’ cousin and her friend about collage and history and fuck knows what else, and you were just so fucking… unattainable. You were talking to that guy, smiling and laughing, and you were standing close together and I just…” He shook his head and sank back against the couch cushions with a sigh. “Mira yelled at me afterwards and told me that I was a complete idiot. So I decided to try and pretend like nothing happened, because I was hoping that you hadn’t seen anything, and try and salvage the situation, but that didn’t work out.” He smiles sadly.

“You think I’m too smart for you?” Nasir asks, because that was the first part his brain got hung up on.

“Yeah.” Agron makes a face.

“That’s stupid,” Nasir says. “You’re not. And were you _jealous_ of that guy?” He has a hard time wrapping his head around this whole thing. They had just been talking, nothing else and Agron didn’t exactly have any right to be jealous in the first place.

“Yes. He was practically feeling you up. I wanted to do that.” His eyes widen almost comically. “I mean, fuck. That came out wrong. Or, I want that, but it’s not… all.” He looks at Nasir and his eyes make has that weird intense thing going on again. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“It’s okay,” Nasir says, eventually, after his brain as caught up.

Agron seems to shine up at that. “How okay?” he asks and Nasir sort of frowns at him in confusion. “I mean,” he hesitates, licking his lips, looking nervous again “could I - could I kiss you?”

Nasir finds himself nodding, a little dumb-founded, and then Agron is suddenly in front of him, big and right there, cupping one hand around Nasir’s jaw and bending down to press their lips together.

It’s sweet and warm and a little bit awkward because of the height difference and their noses bump together more than once, but it doesn’t really matter. Agron smells even better up close and his other hand has found its way up to Nasir’s neck, thumb stroking his skin.

And then Nasir’s thought processes start backfiring, because, shit, that’s Agron’s tongue in his mouth and it is so _good_.

Agron pulls back eventually, just a little, enough for Nasir to notice that his hands has somehow found their way under Agron’s sweater and rests against his bare skin, that Agron is straddling him on the arm-chair and that their breathing is sped up.

Agron smiles and presses a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“We could.” Nasir swallows because his voice isn’t working properly. “We could go up. To my room. If you want.” He is not quite convinced that this is in fact real so he isn’t planning on letting go of Agron anytime soon.

“I want,” Agron says.

- 

It is messy and wonderful, Agron’s body against his own, their clothes dropping to the floor beside Nasir’s bed item by item. Agron is spectacular without clothes, and Nasir can’t help but feel self-conscious and nervous, because Agron seems to know exactly what he is doing, and Nasir, well, he knows the theory of it, but that’s about it.

Only it doesn’t much matter when Agron is sitting up in his knees, looking down at Nasir with eyes both hungry and fond. His hands are touching all over Nasir’s body, and Nasir follows his example, exploring Agron’s body a little shyly, hands moving slowly down his torso, fingertips caressing his abs.

He closes his fist around Agron’s cock more because he can’t not than due to any conscious decision, and Agron groans and crashes their mouths together, which encourages him. He gets slightly more daring, moving his wrist like he enjoys himself, thumbing the slit and squeezing softly when he reach the head.

It’s over fast and Agron’s come is warm against Nasir’s fingers and stomach, and he is blushing. That’s sweet, but Nasir doesn’t really register it, because he is being pushed down on his back and then an arm is thrown over his hips and Agron is swallowing him down and Nasir isn’t even embarrassed about the absolutely wrecked sound that leaves his mouth, because _fuck_.

It’s just as fast and sloppy as Nasir’s handjob. Agron swallows everything down when Nasir comes with a sobbing gasp, and then he reaches up to kiss him. Tasting his own come on Agron’s tongue is slightly gross, but mostly just hot.

Nasir grabs the tissues he keeps on his nightstand and cleans himself up quickly and then he is being pulled against Agron’s chest, his cheek resting against Agron’s shoulder.

Agron’s hand is on his neck and one finger is tracing the wooden earring.

“Thank you,” Nasir says. “For all the gifts, I mean. How did you get the combination to my locker?”

Agron grins. “That’s a secret.” He dips down to kiss Nasir. “I’m glad it worked. Mira has spent the last weeks constantly telling me that ‘the line between romance and creepiness is scarily thin’.” He mimicked Mira’s voice.

“That’s actually true,” Nasir says, and Agron opens his mouth to protest but Nasir kisses him instead, mostly because he can.

- 

There is a hasty knock on his door before it is opened.

“Nasir, what are you doing still in… Oh my god!”

Nasir jerks properly awake at that, attempting to sit up in shock and failing because there is something heavy lying across his chest.

Agron.

And that’s his mother staring down at them.

Their clothes and several suspiciously sticky tissues are scattered by Nasir’s bed and it’s Christmas Day.

Crap.

“Merry Christmas?” he tries, wincing even as the words leave his mouth.

“Merry Christmas,” his mother answers, and now she’s shaking with laughter.

Nasir blushes. “Mom!”

He nudges Agron with his elbows and he wakes up slowly, smiling sleepily up at Nasir.

“Morning,” he says.

“Morning,” Nasir’s mother answers.

Nasir can feel Agron start, but only slightly, and he lifts himself up on his elbow, still smiling.

“Hi,” he says, and, “I’m Agron,” because obviously nothing fazes him, ever. “I really like your son,” he adds.

“I can see that,” Nasir’s mother says, smirking, and Nasir just wants to die. “Shouldn’t you be home celebrating with your family, though?”

“Yeah,” Agron says, one hand scratching at his scalp. “I should. This wasn’t exactly, uh, planned.”

“Christmas breakfast is served in twenty minutes,” Nasir’s mother says, still with that smirk on her face. “There is enough for you too.” And with that she closes the door behind her.

Nasir hides himself under his covers.

“Sorry,” Agron says above him, one warm hand resting against Nasir’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Was that horribly awkward?”

“Yes.” It is muffled by the blankets.

“Can I stay for breakfast?”

Nasir lowers the covers enough to look at Agron. “You want to?”

Agron smiles at him. He does that a lot, Nasir’s noticed. “Yeah.”

Nasir smiles back. “Okay.” Then he replaces the covers over his head. “Just let me die in mortification for a few minutes more, all right?”


End file.
